Seven Nation Army
by Spottedfang
Summary: Short fanfic that is loosely based on the song "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes. Trust me, this is actually a lot better than it sounds.


_There's not a whole lot to say other than I know a lot of people have had this idea, but I wanted to do it, too. I do not own Hetalia. I am not creative enough to anyway. Seriously, though. Everything belongs to their original creators. Please enjoy the story and review if you can. I'd appreciate it._

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The time was 1783, the end of the eight year long war between America and England. A war both countries never expected to see. While it had to be done, there were plenty of regrets along the way. There was nothing worse than America seeing his friend – brother even – down on his knees and looking so miserable. At the same time, there has never been a time when America felt so alive. So desperately had he been waiting for his freedom and at long last, he finally had it.

The rain had already begun to fall down on the two groups of armies, though they were hardly paying attention. As the two quietly marched towards each other, mud heavily build up on their boots and splashing all the way up their clothes. The hardness on both America's and England's faces just proved how determined they were. This was it. It was all or nothing and there was no going back at this point.

There had to have been more than one hundred, if not two hundred, people from each side, all marching in their stance and stiff format. There wasn't a single person out of place. Every person had a role and a position to fill. If even one person was off, then this would have all been for nothing. Both countries had been planning this exact battle for years. Of course, they hadn't known where it was going to be or even when it was going to happen, but they both knew it was coming eventually.

The two had come to a complete stand still on the battlefield, with America and England just a few feet away from each other. So far, they hadn't begun to fight just yet or maybe they were waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" England called out. Although America was right there, he still felt the need to shout. Everything felt so wrong, like it was almost a dream that he couldn't wake up from. "There's still time to back out now. I can take care of you like I always have."

"This isn't about me being taken care of. I am no longer a child; I can take care of myself." America yelled back, both bitterness and hostility sharp on his tongue. "I've been waiting for this moment for too long, England. I deserve my freedom and I'm going to get it."

England's whole body was in a tremor and shook uncontrollably. No matter what he tried to convince himself otherwise, this was personal. After all he had done, after all the things he did for America and this is the thanks he got? While he tried to keep himself under control, his emotions got the better of him. With a deep breath and a sure tight grip on his gun England charged ahead, not even caring if his fellow army mates followed.

It was just at the last minute he stopped. While England so desperately wanted to shoot, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Was it all for nothing? "To hell with this." With a disgusted look, he threw his gun down, causing a splash of mud to splatter on the both of them. "Damn it. Damn it all."

America stood emotionally while the army behind him raised their defenses for battle. Silently, he watched as England fell to his knees in front of him, his face buried in his hands while he cursed the world, or maybe even himself.

While the rain seemed to be slowly ending, the deep clouds above them were still as thick and depressing. For the two leaders, it seemed as though the world was in a standstill with only England and America trapped in what seemed like an endless cycle. Minutes passed, though to the two of them, it felt like lifetimes.

"I admired you once." America recalled softly, though he doubted if England was even paying attention. Of course, he wasn't really paying all that much himself. "You were so great, the way you handled yourself. I hope we can continue to be friends in the future."

Without saying a word, England rose to his feet. There was nothing left for him to do at this point. Everything was lost. "Alright men, let's head out." Without acknowledging America, he turned to his army as they marched back in defeat and shame. It was a long way home, and not a pleasant one at that. Was it even worth it, getting involved with someone like America? Even now, the great leader of England continues to ask himself that very question, and still, he can't think of a proper answer.


End file.
